


Fall Into Earth

by planiforidjit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Post Season 8, Season 9, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:45:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planiforidjit/pseuds/planiforidjit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds Cas months after the angels fall and it's not anywhere he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall Into Earth

They haven't really been able to look for Cas since the angels fell. With Sam still recovering Dean is confined to bunker with him. Cas might be a priority, but Sammy always takes the cake (or the pie because honestly pie is better). Still, Dean keeps an eye out. Every time he goes to get groceries or he and Sam take on a case usually just a small haunting, he makes sure to check for Cas wherever they go. Sam set something up so that whenever someone is picked up by the police or checks into a hospital with the telltale scorch marks on their back, they get a notification and look into it. 

It's never Cas. Or at least it hasn't been yet. 

Dean's trying to act like it doesn't bother him. Like they're trying to move on from after the trials and he's going to take care of Sam. Charlie even stops by occasionally to see what's up. She doesn't mention Cas anymore. Dean thinks Sam must've said something to her about it. Either that or maybe Dean didn't sound so calm when he explained all of it to her in the first place. 

All he wants is to find Cas. And when they're finally reunited it isn't some big thing. Dean doesn't heroically rescue him from a demon or find him lying unconscious in a hospital bed. Dean's downtown getting coffee and he walks out carrying a cup for himself with that nonalcoholic kaluah flavoring that he's been trying out instead of actually drinking and a cup for Sam, just black. Across the street he sees Cas walk into a supermarket. 

It's definitely Cas. He used to see dark haired guys in trench coats and follow them around thinking they were Cas and end up disappointed and embarrassed. More than half of them offered up phone numbers and dates, but Dean would just stutter and stumble away. 

Cas isn't wearing his trench coat. He's wearing a dark jacket, maybe to combat the cold or something. It's a little chilly. He's wearing jeans and his hair is a little scragglier than it was before. But it's Cas. He's got the stubble and the way he sort of slouches his shoulders, but doesn't really look like he's slouching and Dean can see those blue eyes from across the street. There's a small part of him that's a little pissed at Cas that he didn't automatically notice Dean. Shouldn't his radar for Dean be just as heightened as Dean's for Cas? 

Dean drops the coffees. He doesn't even notice them hit the ground and splash over his shoes and the bottom of his jeans. A woman to his right shouts something, but he doesn't care. He crosses the street and he follows Cas into the supermarket. It's small. Not really a supermarket. But he has to look until the last aisle (cookies and crackers) to find Cas. Cas is holding two bags of cookies in his hands and looks like he's debating between them. 

Dean doesn't know what to say. He's practiced a million things. From nothing but a hug to angry shouting to fighting off demons to save Cas's stupid human ass. Instead he says, "You smell like shit, man."  
"Hello, Dean," Cas says, looking up. His eyes are shiny and his frown looks like it's been permanently plastered on his face. 

Dean's mad at Cas. He feels it well up inside him unbidden. Angry like he's never been before. It's not the same as it usually is. Not that betrayal that Cas fucked around in before, not when he disobeyed whatever Dean and Sam told him to do. Cas was here. Cas knew where to find Sam and Dean and he didn't come to them. Either he didn't trust Dean or he didn't want to see them and it hurts. It wrenches Dean's stomach into knots that make him feel sick. It hurts so bad that he's angry. He's angry that Cas can make him hurt this bad. 

"Come on," Dean says to Cas. His voice is gruff. Somewhere between angry and about to cry. "We got snacks in the bunker. You don't have to waste money on shitty cookies." 

"What?" Cas looks back at the bags of cookies and then to Dean. He turns his head to the side like he used to when he was sharing that body with a real live human. 

"You smell. You need a shower. And you need to eat something that's not those cookies. Come on." 

"Dean, I don't--."  
"Cas," Dean barks. "Let's go." 

Cas puts the cookies back and walks with Dean out of the store and to the impala, parked across the street by spilled coffee cups that Dean ignores. He waits until Cas gets into the car to get into the driver's seat and then he locks the doors. He doesn't know what Cas is going to do. What if Cas just decides that he doesn't want this? What if he gets out and leaves again?

They stay quiet for the ride back to the bunker. When they stop Dean puts the car in park and Cas goes to open the door. 

"Wait," Dean says and Cas sits back. Everything crowds in his head, clamoring to be said first. He slams his hand down on the dashboard to quiet his mind and Cas jumps. "Why the hell didn't you come find us?" 

Cas looks down. He had been waiting for this question. "This was my fault," he says, gesturing at everything. "I am the reason the angels were expelled from heaven." 

"No you weren't." Dean's voice is still gruff, still angry with Cas. "Metatron lied to you." 

"I should have known. I was stupid. I thought I would solve everything. I thought I could save you." 

"Don't be stupid, Cas. If angels don't kill me then some dumbass monster will. Possibly a heart attack." 

Cas plucks at a stray thread in his sleeve. "You should hate me," he mutters.

"For what? For hurting all those winged douche bags?" 

"They don't have wings anymore," Cas says, finally lifting his head. The look he gives Dean would be a glare if he didn't look so miserable.

This makes Dean pause. He thinks of the feathers in the trunk. Leftovers from Cas popping in and out. "What about you?"

"Not anymore." 

"What about Jimmy? Is he still in there?" 

"He died, Dean. Don't you remember?" 

"So what are you? What's in there?" 

"Human, Dean. I'm human. No grace. Just a soul." 

"Castiel's soul. You're just you?" 

"Yeah." 

"That's a relief." 

"What?" 

"I don't know if you've noticed, Cas, but you've had a few things in there in the past. I'm just glad you don't have any surprise visitors." Dean pauses, staring fixedly out the windshield and absently stroking baby's wheel. Finally he feels calm enough to continue, "Look, buddy, I'm pissed you didn't come here right away. You look like a fuckin' hobo." 

Cas does the head tilty thing. It's damn cute. Dean has to remind himself he's not supposed to think Cas is cute. "I don't know what that is." 

"A homeless guy," Dean explains. He wants to reach out and put his hand in Cas's. He wants to show him that he's here for him. He twists his hands on the steering wheel instead.

"I've been...wandering." 

Dean has never felt the need to say "Oy" before, but it seems to be the only thing that makes sense right now. "Oy, Cas. Whatever. What I'm saying is that I'm pissed at you, but this isn't the most angry I've been with you." 

Cas pauses, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Naomi made me kill a thousand of you. After a while it wasn't hard at all. Just routine. Then when it came time to actually kill you I couldn't do it, Dean. When you--when you said that you needed me I knew that I could only disappoint you. That's why I left then and that's why I didn't come looking for you once Metatron expelled the angels from heaven. This is my fault and I come with no way to make it better. I can't heal Sam, I can't heal myself. I'm a disappointing human. I am worth nothing to you." 

Dean opens his door and gets out. "Come on. You need to take a shower. Sam'll be happy to see you." 

When Dean walks into the bunker, Sam is sitting in the library doing work. 

"Did you get me coffee?" Sam asks without looking up. Dean doesn't need to see Sam's face to know that his eyes are still puffy from not enough sleep, that the end of his nose is the same red it got when he was little and would spend too much time out in the snow, and his lips are thin and cracked. 

"Picked up something else," Dean says and he knows it kind of makes it sound like he picked up a prostitute. 

"Hello, Sam," Cas says and Sam's head shoots up. 

Sam smiles. For the first time in months, Sam actually smiles. It makes Dean's heart break a little bit. He stands up quickly and crosses the room to pull Cas into a giant hug. 

"It's good to see you alive, man," Sam says, pulling away and wrinkling his nose. "You smell rank, though." 

"Dean says I should shower." 

#

When Dean comes into his room later on, Cas is sitting on his bed wearing a pair of his pajama pants and no shirt. He has his head in his hands, his slim back arched towards Dean. Cas doesn't have the wing shaped scorch marks down his back like the other angels that fell. There are two jagged lines between his shoulder blades, each extending about a foot. They're raised and thick, just healed, probably still hurting.

Cas's wings weren't burned off like they others. They were ripped off. 

Dean clears his throat and Cas looks up at him. His eyes are shining once again, a little red and puffy just like Sam's were only hours before Cas arrived. 

"I apologize," Cas says. "I was looking for a shirt and I got overwhelmed." 

"By my shirts?" Dean asks. He has like six t-shirts and he's pretty sure they're all variations on black. Maybe one or two white ones. 

"Yes," Cas says. He makes a motion to stand up, but Dean puts his hands out to stop him for a reason that even he can't explain to himself. 

"You don't have to get up," Dean says. 

He doesn't know if he's making his voice deeper to seem sexier or manlier or maybe both because he's fucking attracted to Cas. It's there. It's been there forever. But now Cas with the scars and Dean's pajama pants and his back sitting there in his bed and it's real. He just wants to touch him. He wants to map out Cas's body with his hands, memorizing every dip and scar and freckle and muscle and whatever else there is to memorize about Cas. 

Dean sits down on the bed next to Cas. "You're worth a lot to me, Cas. What you were saying before. All that shit about not being worth anything. Just you without any angel crap? You're worth a lot. I don't have friends. I have Sam and I had Benny and I got you. And I was so wrapped up in my shit before with the whole shutting down hell thing. I didn't think about you. I didn't think about losing you. Or I did. That night in the bar. But you go away all the time. You go away and you don't come back for months and half the time I think you're dead or crazy or working with demons and this happened." Dean reaches out with a tentative hand and runs his fingers over the scar forming on Cas's back. Cas flinches away from him. "I'm sorry." 

"No," Cas says. He leans back against Dean's hand and Dean takes it as a cue to start some of that mapping, to let his hand ghost across Cas's back. "I just didn't expect it. This isn't your fault, Dean. The angels aren't your fault. I followed Metatron blindly." 

Cas turns his back to Dean completely and Dean puts a hand on his shoulder. Cas is tense. He can feel the knots in Cas's muscles and he's been told more than once that he gives a damn good massage, so he doesn't want to leave Cas hanging. "Yeah, well I let you. If I told you I wanted you here would you have tried to close up heaven? Would you have stopped all that crap if I had just said I needed you again?" 

Cas smells like Dean after the shower, but he also smells like Cas. He smells like open air, like the night sky, and like Old Spice and Dean wants to laugh. Slowly, so he doesn't take Cas by surprise, he finds the biggest knot he can and rubs his thumb in wide circles over it.

Cas gasps a little, but it ends in a sigh. His shoulders drop and he leans back against Dean's hands. "I knew what I was giving up. I knew how hard it would be. I thought I was doing the right thing." 

"So you would have done it no matter what?" Encouraged by Cas's response, Dean presses harder, smoothing his hands across more of Cas's skin. He is very concerned by how his heart speeds up when Cas shudders a little at the pressure.

"If I had actually been doing what I thought I was doing, yes. I would have left with the rest of the angels." 

Dean's hands still. "It was like an all or nothing type situation? You had to go if everyone went?" 

"Yes." 

"That's fucking stupid. I'm glad Metatron screwed you over then." Dean resumes his rubbing, moving up to the base of Cas's neck.

Cas stretches his neck up, rolling his head lightly. "You are?" 

"Yeah. I need you, asshole. I know it’s selfish, but fuck that. I need a friend and Sammy needs a friend and we need you." 

"Oh. I didn't think about that." 

"I figured." 

Cas stays silent. His breathing is slow and measured. The worst of the knots are gone from his shoulders. Dean contemplates massaging the rest of his back, but can't quite bear the thought of touching Cas that much and then having to stop.

"Where do you plan on sleeping?" Dean asks. 

Cas doesn't look at Dean when he speaks. "Can I sleep with you?" 

Without even thinking, Dean pulls his hands away. "What? Really? Why?"

Cas turns to look at him, finally. His shoulders are squared, and Dean feels guilty for pulling away and putting him on the defensive. "I don't sleep well. I don't think I really know how to yet...." 

"You don't know how to sleep?" 

"I never did before."

Dean looks down at his bed. "It's tiny." 

Cas nods and stands up. "I understand. I'll sleep on the couch. Goodnight, Dean." 

Dean groans. "Fine, Cas, fine. Just let me get changed and we can go to sleep." 

"Is that your routine?" Cas asks. "I went to the library and I read up on sleeping though I don't completely understand it but I know that generally there is a routine." 

"Sometimes I read," Dean says. He gets off the bed and sheds his shirt and pants. He's very aware of Cas watching him. He doesn't know how he feels about it. He doesn't know if he wants it or not. He wishes Cas would put on a fucking shirt.

"What do you read?" Cas asks. He doesn't hide the way his eyes rake over Deans body. 

Dean pulls pajama pants on. He hopes Cas doesn't get too close because his stupid eyes are giving him a boner and he can't stand it. "Whatever's around. I'm working on a book about World War Two and stuff."  
"I watched it," Cas says as Dean pulls the covers back on the bed to get in. Cas shifts his body and gets under the covers on the other side. 

"You just watched?" Dean asks. He doesn't really know how to handle getting into a bed with Cas. It feels strangely like the nights of getting into bed with Lisa. When she would read and he would cuddle under the covers and fall asleep. It feels so domestic. Sleeping with someone. No fucking or anything. Just sleeping. 

Cas shrugs. "It's what I do. Rather, what I did. Until you came along, I just watched." 

"I think I'm just going to go to sleep, man. Do you mind?" 

"No," Cas says, turning onto his side away from Dean. Dean turns out the light. 

Cas drifts off to sleep right away. Maybe it's the being in a bed thing or being with Dean or even the shoulder rub that makes him fall asleep so quickly. Dean stays awake, listening to Cas breathe. He snores softly and once or twice lets out a little moan. And eventually, once Dean's thoughts slow down, he falls asleep to those sounds. 

It goes on like that-- Cas sleeping in Dean's bed every night. They don't always go to bed together. Sometimes Dean needs to fall asleep first or Cas does, while the other is doing something else in the bunker or Dean is out drinking. Sometimes Dean reads and sometimes Cas reads. Sam doesn't say anything about it because his brother hasn't slept so well in his life and Cas actually looks like he isn't completely falling apart at the reality of being human. It might even make Sam feel a little better about everything in general. He always was annoyingly sensitive to Dean's mood.

The first night Dean wakes up with Cas's head on his chest it's a little alarming. He somehow unknowingly has an arm around Cas's shoulders and his head resting on the top of Cas's hair. His hair is thick and soft and Dean is really alarmed at how much he likes how it smells. The fifth night in a row this happens Dean just assumes it's how it's going to be from now on and gives into it. He likes it. They're happy. He clings to it, terrified and needy, but he doesn't push their boundaries. No matter how many times he dreams about it and wakes, gasping, just in time to dart to the bathroom.  
He doesn't feel like explaining wet dreams to an ex-angel, especially when said angel features so prominently in them.

#

Dean stumbles into the bunker late one night. Or maybe its early morning. He doesn't care. He doesn't care about anything.

That's a lie. He does care, always has. He cares about fucking everything and that's why he's gotta drink. Why he had to drink. He knows his limit and he doesn't want to vomit on Cas. Goddamn Cas. 

Cas is the reason he's like this. He almost falls down the stairs and tears open the door to his bedroom. Cas sits up, bleary eyed, but the light is still on.

"Did you sleep with the light on?" Dean asks. 

"Sam said I shouldn't expect you to come back," Cas says. "I wasn't sure though, so I left the light on for you." 

"Why would Sam think that? I haven't gotten laid in for-fuckin-ever." 

"You were angry." 

Dean shucks his shirt and pants and falls into the bed on his stomach. "Fuck this shit. I wasn't angry. Why would I be angry?" 

Cas shrugs and Dean frowns at him. 

"Stupid fucking shoulders," Dean mumbles, still staring at Cas. 

"My shoulders?" Cas asks. "What's wrong with my shoulders?" 

"I wanna lick 'em. It's a problem. Ya know, 'cause you're you." 

Cas doesn't say anything. He looks a little alarmed and embarrassed and maybe considering pulling on a shirt so Dean will stop staring at him. 

"Sorry," Dean says. "I'm drunk." 

Cas shifts uncomfortably under the covers. 

"Sorry, Cas," Dean says again. Then he sits up quickly and pushes Cas backwards into the bed. "No. Fuck it. I'm not sorry. You fucking left me, man." 

"Dean," Cas says. He looks up at him with pleading eyes. His fingers flex and reach up to rest at Dean's sides. His skin is smooth and warm and smells sweet like whiskey.

"I told you I needed you and you left," Dean says. "Then you were here. The whole fucking time you were here." 

Cas turns his head away. His eyes rest on the thick book that Dean has been making his way through before letting Cas curl around him and fall asleep every night. 

"I thought--," Cas starts and he looks back at Dean. Dean's eyes are shiny with tears. 

"Fuck," Dean says and rolls off of Cas. "This isn't what I want. I wanted it to be different." 

Cas rolls onto his side and reaches out to put his hand on Dean's face. The last time he did this he was healing Dean. He had his grace. He didn't have a lot else, and he wasn't human. Somehow being human now and running his thumb over the stubble on Dean's cheek means more. But he doesn't really get it. He doesn't get why his heart constricts or why Dean has tears in his eyes. He suspects it has a lot to do with mortality. Forever is a lot shorter now. 

Cas leans forward and kisses Dean. It's just a small kiss, a brush of his lips to show Dean that he's there. But Dean doesn't let him go. Dean's hands come up to cradle Cas's face, to push his fingers into that thick black hair. 

Dean pulls away eventually. "Why--?"

"I watched a movie," Cas replies.

"That wasn't really a pizza man kiss...."

"No. It was 27 Dresses."

Dean lets out a snort. And he can't fucking stop giggling. He has to roll over and bury his face in his pillow to muffle his snorts of laughter.

"It was very romantic," Cas mumbles. He reaches to put a hand on Dean's back. His touch is light and tentative.

"I'm not as big a Katherine Heigel fan after Grey's," Dean says and starts cracking up again. "Oh my god, Cas. You're killing me."

Cas frowns. "I hope not."

"In a good way," Dean says.

"You die often, Dean. None of them have been good ways."

"Goddammit, Cas," Dean says. He reaches forward and pulls Cas's lips back to his.

It's kind of stupid and romantic. He still can't stop laughing and Cas smiles too, which is about as close to a laugh as Cas usually gets. Then Cas lets out this breathy laugh that goes straight to Dean's dick and things get serious.

Dean's hands leave Cas's hair and move to his back, pulling on his shoulders. He grinds his hips up against Cas and Cas gasps. He pulls away from Dean with half lidded eyes and his mouth open.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Dean asks him.

"I'm not stupid," Cas says. He leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of Dean's neck. Then he pulls away. "I still need logistical help."

Dean chuckles. "Okay, buddy. I got you."

His hands tangle into Cas's hair and pulls him back so he can part Cas's lips. He rolls over on top of Cas. It's not his usual style but he's leading things right now. He's doing this for Cas.

Dean feathers kisses down Cas's bare chest and Cas's hands tangle into the hem of his shirt. He pulls it over Dean's head in a single movement and his hands run down Dean's back, his nails biting into skin. It's remarkably masculine the way Cas's hands pull against Dean, grinding them together. Cas fits a flannel clad knee between Dean's legs and rocks upward.

Dean gasps against the light hair on Cas's chest. Cas isn't trying very hard to be gentle and Dean loves it.

He's never done this before. Well not since that one night when he was in high school somewhere in Ohio and then it was just because of the alcohol. They were both drunk and had the spins and it was just all hands. But he sort of gets what he's doing for Cas. He's had plenty of girls go down on him and the thought of getting his lips around Cas's sure to be magnificent cock has been a part of his masturbatory fantasies for more than a year now.

Dean hooks his fingers into the waistband of the pajama pants and pulls them down in one movement. Cas's cock bobs free and Dean just stares at it. He knows what to do. But this is the first one he's ever had right in front of his face. Yes there was that kid but it wasn't so close and it was so dark then.

"Fuck," Dean says, letting out a breath of air and Cas shivers.

"Dean," Cas says and Dean thinks of all the times Cas has said his name. He reaches up with outstretched fingers, maybe to find a place on Cas's thigh or against his stomach, but instead his fingers knock into Cas's fisted in the sheets. It doesn't take any thinking; their fingers curl together, Cas's hand squeezing Dean's.

Dean leans forward and licks a stripe up the underside of Cas's cock. It doesn't taste any different than he expected it too. It's kind of familiar and not horrible and Dean wants more of it. He still doesn't know what he's doing, but Cas's hand around his own moves in encouragement. So Dean takes the tip into his mouth and sucks. Cas's hips buck off the bed unexpectedly, giving Dean more than he's ready for, pushing a couple of those hard inches into his mouth.

"Dean," Cas murmurs again. His voice is strained and ragged and Dean takes in a little bit more. He wants to fucking wreck Cas. His free hand reaches down to the jeans he's still stupidly wearing and unbuttons and unzips the fly quickly. When he gets his hand around his own cock he chokes out a moan around Cas.

Dean pulls back a little, moving to mouth the underside of Cas's cock. He looks up at to make sure that this is right. That even though Dean knows his own preferences he wants to know that Cas likes this too. Cas's head is thrown back against the pillow, his neck arched and long and that's probably a good thing. Dean kind of wants to suck on Cas's neck just like he's sucking on his cock but he has to do this. He wants this. He's wanted it for forever, it seems.

Cas's breaths get higher, his moans a little louder, and his free hand trails into Dean's hair, pulling. That sends Dean over the edge.

"Fuck, Cas, fuck," Dean gasps, pulling off of Cas's cock and burying his face against his thigh. He feels for a second like he can't breathe, like he can't do anything except come and come and come.

Cas grips Deans shoulders with his hands and pulls him up to kiss him. He licks into Dean's mouth and reaches down to lace their fingers together again as Dean rides out the end of his orgasm against Cas's thigh. Cas pushes him over onto his back, still kissing. Lips and fingers never parting. He brings his free hand down between the two of them and jacks himself quickly. His lips pause on Dean's when he comes. His body almost completely freezes except for his hips and his mouth falls open. Dean looks up at Cas's closed eyes and reaches up with his hand to hold the side of Cas's face. Cas's mouth turns into Dean's hand, still open, as he gasps.

"I'm here," Dean says softly. He doesn't know why he says it. Obviously he's there. But somehow it makes sense. It makes sense to say something to the beautiful man above him, to say something reassuring. Even though Cas kind of knew what was going on maybe this is the first time this has ever happened. Maybe he doesn't know what's going to happen next and Dean needs him to know that they'll be together through all of this. Only partially because Dean will be damned if they don't do this again.

Cas's eyes are heavy lidded and darker than normal when he opens them again. Unsteadily, he lays down beside Dean, pressing against his side. Dean knows they should clean up, but Cas's breathing is evening out and he is far too content to move right now. Eventually Cas whispers, "Is it always like that?"

"Like what?" Dean asks, very worried about the answer.

Cas is silent for so long that Dean props himself up to look at him better. Cas's eyes are shining. He looks at Dean with that stupid confused puppy look. "I don't have any words to describe that."

Dean smirks. "Try orgasm."

Cas frowns at him. Always serious. "I know what it's called."

Dean’s smile widens and he leans down to kiss Cas again. Cas runs his hands into his hair and pulls at it, demanding more, but Dean pulls away. He wants this again and again and again, but he’s still a little tipsy and tired and he just wants to wrap his arm around Cas and sleep like they have been forever. 

Cas does the puppy thing once again. “I don’t understand. Why are you stopping?”

“It’s not like we can’t do it again.”

Cas’s gives Dean a shy smile. “We can do it again?”

Dean laughs, relieved beyond imagining that Cas is so excited at this prospect. “Of course we can do it again. Just, like, not right now. I need time to recharge, man. You’ll probably fall asleep soon anyway.”

Cas hums contentedly, and closes his eyes. Dean reaches around him to turn out the light before he lays down again and pulls him close. Dean’s almost asleep, floating away in that hazy afterglow, when Cas asks, “So, is that an example of a blow job?”

“Cas, shut up and go to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! We're on Tumblr! http://planiforidjit.tumblr.com/


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